The Free Fall
by secondplacechampion
Summary: Lucifer's demons have figured out a way to track down and kidnap vessels. During his investigation, Dean is kidnapped. Now it's up to Sam and Castiel to figure out how to save him. Dean/Cas ...this is my first SPN fanfic! Yay!
1. Prologue

I don't own anything, yada yada yada. Posted over on my LiveJournal. General Season 5 spoliers.

Enjoy!

* * *

Castiel can remember, with absolute clarity, the moment he lost what was left of his Grace. Dean Winchester's face was torn with pain, his eyes wet with fear, and his mouth – the same mouth that had formed over Castiel's just moments before – formed over the word "No." Dean's voice was lost next to the Heavenly Host currently singing its swan song in Castiel's ears. He listened in earnest, realizing this might be the last time he hears the song of Heaven and truly understands its words. His Grace was full and white as it left him and for the first time it was too bright for his eyes. He shut them on instinct. The Grace left him in a rush and it burned like a knife to the gut and stung like his heart was on fire.

But he did not scream.

This was a worthy sacrifice, Dean's life would be saved – and therefore the World. Castiel was at peace with that idea. He felt his entire being becoming smaller, tighter, restricted. He closed his eyes, preparing for the free Fall – the hard landing and the humanity that would come after that.

With his last wisp of Grace, he prayed his plan would work, that he had saved everyone; that Dean would live a long and happy life.

When he opened his eyes again he was momentarily confused. He expected for the confusion to leave him – he recognized it, acknowledged it, but it did not pass. This was new. The confusion took hold of his entire being and then denial joined in before he could process it. He was supposed to Fall. He was supposed to be reborn. Lucifer was supposed to take his Grace and let Dean and the others leave.

Looking up, confusion still clouding his mind, Castiel saw Lucifer glowing, his vessel looking healthier than he had in a long time. Lucifer smiled through the glow; _my Grace_, Castiel thought with a deep feeling of longing (he even took a step forward with an arm reached out towards the edges of the glow as if he could take it back until fear ran through him when Lucifer opened his eyes stopping him cold in his place.)

"Why thank you brother," he looked down at his hands and then stretched his shoulders all the way through his neck. "A dose of Grace was just what the doctor ordered."

"You son of a bitch," Castiel heard somewhere to his right. He tried to turn towards the voice, but found himself becoming dizzy. His hand reached up to steady his head, the tips of his fingers cold as ice and sending shivers through his skin.

"…what?" Castiel tried to speak. He had so many questions. Why didn't he Fall? Why was he still here? Would Dean still be free? Was Lucifer going to go back on his word? He wanted to ask them all, but his throat seemed tighter and suddenly he was racked with coughing.

Someone called his name, but it barely registered as the ground was suddenly getting closer. _This must be it_. He put out his hands to catch himself. _I must finally be Falling. _The feeling of his hands hitting the rough concrete of the old factory was new – a dull pressure that moved all the way up into his shoulders before his elbows gave out.

His head hit the ground with a bounce – he remembers because he thought it was funny how his vessel's head _bounced_ like it was a play toy and how he thought that it shouldn't be _that funny_. He saw hands – familiar and warm – and then he saw Dean's face.

He felt warmth flutter through him as he saw Dean's mouth – the same one that kissed him, the one that was causing Castiel to become very distracted from this whole 'he should be Falling business' – form his name _Cas_ like it was prayer over and over again.

And then his vision slowly became black.


	2. Chapter 1

The next moment he knew, with perfect clarity and distinction that he was in a motel bed, bundled in layers and layers of blankets. The restriction was overwhelming, and the sudden fear and panic that came with being restricted overcame him, and he began to fight and struggle against the scratchy blankets. He was suffocating in a sea of material, and heard himself start to whimper against the covers.

He yelled out when he felt strong arms start to push against his and he felt powerless against them.

"Cas!"

He kept fighting against the arms, and started kicking when another pair joined the first. People were holding him hostage and he needed to get away. He felt his knee connect with something very solid, followed by a very startled cry.

Whatever he hit, he hit them to the point it hurt. He felt a wave of satisfaction that he could fight against his attackers.

"Cas, buddy," the arms that were still holding him said, "you have to calm down! It's me! It's Sam!"

Sam…

At the mention of his name, Castiel began to settle in the bed. For the first time, he looked past the bedding and saw Sam, his face looking all concerned, but the grips of his hands tight on Castiel's wrists.

"Wha-" Castiel said. He took a deep breath, and then began coughing. He kept kicking at the blankets.

"You're running a pretty high fever, man." Sam said, patting his back through the coughs. "You need to keep those on."

"They are too tight…" Castiel moaned and was helped to sit up against the headboard. Sam nodded and sat back for a moment to take a breath. Castiel was calmer, less panicked, but he still felt too constricted and sick to his stomach. That was certainly a new sensation. He looked back up to Sam. "Fever?"

Sam nodded, "Glad you woke up. Glad you're you. We didn't know if…" he trailed, avoiding Castiel's eyes. He began to straighten up the blankets, pulling them out from under the mattress to calm Castiel.

"Where's Dean?"

"At the courthouse," Sam began walking around the bed, "seeing what he can do about Ben."

'_Ben'_ hit him like a beacon. That name should have meaning to him, Castiel realized. But his head was heavy and his stomach was still turning. He did not know what was happening. "Ben?"

"You don't remember?"

It was a new voice, one that startled Castiel. He jumped as he turned to look at the new voice. It was a woman, with wide brown eyes and long brown hair worn in a braid that lay just below her shoulder. The pattern suddenly reminded Castiel of rope and he instantly reached for his own wrists. They had rope on them recently. He could still feel it.

He had to force himself to refocus. His wrists should not be the main concern. The woman should be. He turned back to her; Sam was helping her off the ground.

"You're the one I kicked."

"Yeah," she grinned through it, "you got me in the ribs pretty good."

"Who are you?"

Sam and the woman, who was short, considering she stood barely at Sam's chest – but Castiel found himself laughing – most people looked short next to Sam. He shook himself to stop laughing – why was he laughing?

He was still confused. But Sam was asking a question. He forced himself to pay attention.

Castiel found himself asking, "What?"

"I asked if you knew who I was."

"Sam."

"But you don't know her?" He was pointing at the woman; she had a kind and simple face. Apart from the hand on her side where Castiel had kicked her, and wisps of hair had fallen around her face, no doubt there because of her struggle with Castiel and the blankets, she stood up straight and looked very proud.

"I'm sorry I hit you," it was out of Castiel's mouth before he could say anything else. Remorse ran through him like an hourglass and he felt it in his throat. He was overly sorry for hurting this woman and he wanted nothing but forgiveness from this woman and he did not even know her name. The need was overpowering. Then there was something else in his throat, and out of the corner of his eyes he saw Sam reach for a trash can and shove it into his arms before he experienced throwing up for the first time.

Once he was done, he sat back and pushed the can away from him, "What just happened?"

Sam laughed and sat down on the edge of the bed, "You vomited, Cas. Happens sometimes when you're sick." He took the can away from him and sat it down next to the bed. "You sure you don't know who she is?"

The woman looked down at him, brown eyes expectant. She did seem familiar.

"I should, shouldn't I?"

She nodded, "My name is Liz." It sounded like a question, like it would spark some memory in Castiel's mind.

"Do you know who you are?"

"Castiel," he answered instantly. "But I'm different now."

'_Tighter, heavier_,' his mind told him. '_Emptier,_' it echoed.

"I Fell. I gave Lucifer my Grace." Images of Dean's scared face ran over his mind, memories of Lucifer's satisfied smirk. "Did all those people…" he took a quick breath, "Did Dean…" he took another, "Did it work?" The breaths were coming faster now, and he could not slow down. "Did I… did they… get out?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Sam reached out a steadying hand, "calm down."

"He's gonna hyperventilate," the woman – Liz said – as she ran to another room that Castiel assumed was the bathroom.

"Yes Cas." Sam answered, still trying to calm him down. "Everyone got out, thanks to you. Everyone is fine."

He was still breathing heavy and holding his head, curved down into his legs when he whimpered, "I am not fine."

"You will be," Sam said rubbing his back, "I just think you've never known what it's like to be sick before…"

Castiel jumped when something cold was laid on his neck. "It's okay," Liz soothed, "it's just a washcloth. It'll help." Castiel eyed her and nodded, leaning forward again. The two let him catch his breath before asking him any more questions.

But he had about a million for them.

The cool towel on his neck was comforting, he realized. Shortly after that, he realized that Liz was running a hand across his back along his shoulders. His shoulders.

His empty shoulders.

He couldn't feel his wings any longer. He felt his face tear at the revelation, and he felt water run down his face. He was crying. He knew he was crying at their loss and what their absence meant. He didn't want to stop crying, but he was sitting alone in a room with Sam and some woman that he should know but didn't.

He sat back against the headboard suddenly, and bit his lip. Sam and Liz sat back slowly and stared at one another while Castiel kicked his feet free from the covers.

"I'm gonna call Dean," Sam said, Liz nodding.

'_Dean…'_ the name filled his mind and his soul. Closing his eyes, he could almost still feel him. The mark that Castiel had left on him years ago… the burn on his shoulder… even after Dean was hidden from the eyes of Angels, Castiel could still sense it. He could never know exactly where he was, but it was a comfort to know that Dean was safe and alive.

It frightened Castiel to no end when it happened, when Dean would just disappear off the radar.

The feeling disappeared when Zachariah took him to the future.

The feeling disappeared when Gabriel took him to TV land.

The feeling disappeared when Lucifer took him underground.

But right now? Right now Castiel could still feel it. The pull that his Grace had to Dean may have not been as strong as it was before considering he no longer carried his Grace, but it was there. It was a comfort that Castiel clung to.

He felt his feet get recovered and he snapped his eyes open. Liz had covered him back up. Fear crept up in him like fire.

"Why do you do that?"

She looked up at him from the foot of the bed, "You still have a fever. That delirium that you are feeling? That might go away when we get your fever broken. Staying covered up will help you." She nodded comfortingly. Castiel blinked and felt a tug from the feeling that was uniquely Dean – Dean's scar, Castiel's mark – and nodded through his heavy eyelids.

Soon, he was asleep.

* * *

Dean was supposed to be signing papers. Important papers, life changing papers with lawyers and judges and everything, but his little brother had called and his little brother was under strict instructions to only call him if there was a dire emergency.

"What do you mean Cas has woken up?"

Yep, dire emergency. Little brother was forgiven.

He heard Sam sigh from the other end of the phone. "How else can I say that sentence?"

Dean ran a hand through his hair, and leaned it against the wall of the hallway. A hallway that seemed to have every stinkin' person that worked for the county suddenly occupying it. "Well, how long has he been awake?"

"I don't know, five minutes. Look, Dean… he woke up a little delirious. He didn't know where he was or what was going on. He didn't know who Liz was."

"So…" Dean trailed, smiling at a woman who walked past him with a very curious look on her face. People really needed to mind their own business. "Like amnesia? Is he still… you know, Cas?"

"He's still Cas. He knows who I am, was asking about you. I think this fever is really messing with him. He still has one, really hates the covers. It's all me and Liz can do to keep them on him."

Dean sighed, and stared at the judge's door. Too much had happened in the last week and he was really not mature enough to handle everything that had been thrown at him. Going to Hell? Bring it on. Lucifer has just risen from Perdition? Where's his shotgun? It might have taken him gratuitous amounts of liquor to get him through the last two years but he had gotten through them.

But this last week had made the last two and a half years look easy.

The lawyer lady stuck her head out the door, "Mr. Winchester? We really need to get this taken care of." She looked down at her watch and then back into the room, "He'll be just a minute, Judge Patterson." She turned back to Dean and gave him a '_what the hell are you thinking_?' look and dashed back into the judge's chambers.

"Look Sam, let me finish stuff up here with Ben, and we'll be there ASAP, okay?"

"Okay…" Sam trailed and then his line went dead.

Dean sighed again; he knew Sam was not happy with him being here. But he was here and he was going to do this and forced himself back into the judge's chambers. Three heads all turned and looked towards him as he swung himself back into the room. The lawyer, Kristina – or some sort of 'Kris-' name – looked at him with disappointment. The judge, a portly guy with large glasses and a shiny head looked up with anticipation. And Ben, little Ben, '_not his son, but could be his son, but isn't, and is about to really and actually be his son,' _Ben.

"Who was that?" Ben asked.

"Sam," Dean answered, he looked back to the judge and the lawyer, "my brother. A friend of ours is sick," he looked down at Ben. "Cas. He just woke up."

Hope lit up the ten year old's face. It was the first good emotion that Dean read off the kid in _days._ "That's a good sign, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It is a very good sign," he squeezed Ben's shoulder with a smile and then turned back to the overly large desk in front of him. "Where were we?"

The judge readjusted his glasses and began to read. "This is the document covering the signing over of Benjamin Braeden to Dean Winchester as acting ward and guardian in the event of Miss Lisa Braeden's death." Dean let out a very shaky breath. He didn't really think that he would be able to do everything he had done today legally, and he was overly lucky that he didn't have to use a phony name. Lisa had spoken for him in her will, claiming him to be a family friend; that he was fit to be an interim guardian if needed.

Ben played with the strings from his hoodie and Dean felt that awkward, '_I don't know what you need right now, kid'_ feeling that he had been feeling for days. He didn't know how he was going to take care of him… But like uncertainty was going to stop him.

The judge continued, "Dean Winchester," he pushed the paper across his desk, "by signing on this line, you are accepting sole custody of the minor Benjamin Braeden and everything that we have talked about today." Dean was handed a pen.

He stalled momentarily. It had been a long time since he signed his real name. His surname felt foreign under the pressure of the pen. But with a dotting of an 'i' and the crossing of a 't,' Dean became a father.

"Congratulations, Ben!" The judge said, pushing the paper towards the lawyer to sign as witness, and then gathering his things together. They all stood. "It's rare that a guardian adopts a ward after a tragedy like you have experienced. Most kids in your kind of situation tend to get lost in the shuffle."

"Yeah," Ben said sadly, "I'm a lucky one."

It sounded like sarcasm, but Dean threw his arm around Ben anyway. He held out his free arm to the judge, "Thank you for all your help."

The judge smiled and grasped Dean's hand, "Thank you, for what you did for my daughter. There is no way that I could repay you for her life."

He shook the lawyer's hand, they said their final goodbyes to the room and then Dean and Ben were sitting in the Impala driving back to the motel.

"You okay, Ben?"

He was still playing with his hoodie strings.

Dean suddenly felt self conscious, "You are okay with this, right? I mean, with the adoption and everything?" Ben nodded and a weight lifted off of Dean's chest.

"I used to dream up ways that you'd be my dad." His voice was soft and low, "I used to wish that you'd come back into town, take my mom on a few dates and then a year or so down the road there'd be a wedding and then you'd be my dad and we'd be one big family."

Dean smirked, "Really?"

Ben smiled up at him, "Yeah. For the longest time, I had it in my mind that you really were my dad. I mean, you fit the description that my mom told me. Cool guy, liked this kind of music, had a beautiful classic car, really strong and proud… and then you rescued all us kids. You would have been the coolest dad ever."

Dean smirked at Ben's bright eyes.

"But this…" Ben's face fell and his attention was back on his hoodie. "I never even dreamed it would be this way."

"I really liked your mother. She was an awesome chick."

"I know."

"She loved you."

"I know," Ben did this kind of snorting thing, but he wasn't laughing, "She died saving me, remember?"

Dean didn't know what to say in the silence.

But Ben, with his wide brown eyes and dash of freckles across his cheeks, did; "Can we listen to Zeppelin?"

Dean bit back a laugh, but he couldn't fight the smile that broke across his face, "You never have to ask if we can listen to Zeppelin when I'm behind the wheel."

Ben's face lit up and broke out with a smile of his own as he dove for the box of cassette tapes. Dean's world brightened with that smile. With that simple smile, the first one Dean had seen in days, he knew that everything with Ben was going to be okay.

Then he realized that he had a Fallen Angel waiting on him in the motel room and the world got darker again.


	3. Chapter 2

The first time Castiel woke up, he was frightened by his blankets. The second time, Dean had his hands on his shoulders and was gently rocking him. His eyes were groggy. If sleeping was going to become a permanent part of his existence, he really did not like having his eyes be all sticky and heavy. He was not used to having to close his eyes, and it was new experience.

"Cas?" It was Dean.

"Mmm," Castiel answered.

"Come on, Cas, wake up," Castiel felt the bed move, and he was certain that Dean had sat down. He tried opening his eyes again. This time, the back of Dean's hand brushed against his forehead. It was cool and soft, and suddenly, Castiel was happy that Dean was there.

"Hi…" he said weakly, but with a giddy smile.

Dean smiled back, "Hi. How are you?"

He felt himself frown, trying to find the words. "I'm Fallen."

"Yep," Dean looked guilty; Castiel was confused as to why. "You okay?"

"How long have I been asleep?"

"About a day and a half and about half a day short of me and Sam taking you to a hospital. You're not as hot as before, I think your fever is going down."

"It is easier to concentrate than before."

"Good…" Dean sat back.

The blankets were beginning to constrict him again, and Castiel started to fight them. "What's going on with me, Dean?"

"You Fell, Cas." Dean tightened his jaw and hated himself for sounding so lame. "You're going to feel strange for awhile, I imagine."

"I feel confused. And tight. And hot. And heavy."

"What are you confused about?"

Castiel pushed himself further down into the mattress while he tried to push away his blankets. Dean only sighed and pulled them back up. Castiel moaned and threw them off as far as his arms would throw them.

"Ugh!" he groaned, "Why does everyone keep doing that?"

"Pulling the blankets up? We need to break your fever."

He sighed and stared up at Dean, "And how does making me hotter help get rid of a fever?"

Dean blinked, "It just does." He reached for the blankets again. This time, he let Dean pull them up to halfway up his chest. Which was grey and v-shaped.

"When did I change clothes?"

Dean smirked, "You were kinda bloody Cas, and we had to make sure that you didn't have any deep cuts or anything. Leaving the factory after you passed out there was a… a…" Dean laughed, "…a bit of a cave in. The place fell in on us as we were leaving. Maybe you got hit on the head and that's why things are fuzzy for you and why it took so long for you to wake up. Liz got hurt pretty bad. A big ole gash in her leg."

A cave-in? Confusion clouded up his mind and made everything difficult to decipher. "Factory?"

Dean sat back down on the bed, "What do you remember?"

"I remember Falling. It hurt. And…" he closed his eyes in memory, "…it was bright."

Dean nodded and patted him on the knee, "Anything before that?"

Eyes still closed, he tried to recall the memories. "Paris."

Dean raised his eyebrows, "What?"

"There was a little girl, in a yellow dress?" The memory was fuzzy, but it was there. "She spilt her glass of water. She saw me." The memory began to get darker, fuzzier, like a fog floated around in his head, covering up what he wanted to see. "I had to leave after that."

"Where'd you go?"

He focused on the fog, trying to make it go away and then suddenly, Castiel looked up at Dean, eyes wide, "You called me. You were bored and alone in the car."

He smiled, "Yeah. That was about a week ago. Before everything happened. Anything after that?"

He concentrated, and pushed against the fog. He sighed, "Not really."

"So," Dean sat up straight. "Falling you remember. But nothing leading up to the Falling?"

He shook his head, "Something about a deal with Lucifer, to get everyone out. I'm guessing he had you prisoner somewhere?"

"Me and five other people."

Castiel blinked, concern rocking his concentration. "Are they all okay?"

Dean looked away from him. "Those six are all alive. That's what counts."

Satisfaction ran through him, and he smiled. He saved lives. He stood up to his brother and saved humans, saved Dean Winchester and therefore humanity. Happiness bubbled in the back of his neck and, surprisingly, in the heels of his feet. And then he frowned and stared at the ceiling.

His heels.

Not his vessel's.

His wings gave a flutter at the thought, but when he glanced to look at them, they were not there. It was a phantom twitch. He shook and, for the first time, was thankful for the blankets covering him. He felt naked and suddenly his mind was on the human's story of Adam and Eve and how they first felt nakedness. Humans were silly with their self-conscious emotions. He shook with laughter.

Why was he laughing? Things were serious, he had lost his wings, and it was not a laughing matter.

'_Bet my wings were a sight to see when Lucifer took my Grace_,' he smiled to himself, happy about his tiny victory.

And then he was confused again. His eyes open and curiously pointed at Dean. "How'd you get kidnapped?"

Dean stared at him momentarily, mouth hanging open. He blinked a few times and then shook his head, "You sure you're okay, Cas?"

"Yes," Castiel answered. "What is wrong with knowing how you were kidnapped?"

"Nothing, it's just…" Dean ran his hand over his mouth and jaw. It had been a long week. "Maybe we should wait for your fever to break before you learn the whole story. Get some rest."

Now that Dean mentions it, he is a little tired. The pillow surrounded his ears and the sounds of the room began to get muffled.

"Don't leave me…" he grumbled over his shoulder in Dean's general direction. He settled for a tiny moment before he snapped open his eyes and took in a sharp breath. His hand came out from under the covers and gripped onto Dean's arm as he almost shouted, "I don't want to be alone!"

Dean took Castiel's arm and laid him back down, "Shh, don't worry about that. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here. I promise…"

At Dean's proclamation he relaxed. The feeling flowed through him like wax and everything became slow and soft and sleepy.

And once again, Castiel was asleep.

* * *

"How's Bobby doin'?"

Sam looked up from cleaning his guns as Dean walked in, "Just called, said they'd be back by lunch."

"Awesome." One issue down, about a million more to deal with. Including a kid in the room in front of him, a Fallen Angel in the room behind him, a pissed off brother in the room with him, oh - and the Apocalypse on his shoulders.

One thing at a time… "Ben in the other room?"

He kept walking as Sam nodded. For a motel, this one was decent, it had a kitchen space and they had three consecutive adjoining rooms, which was nice considering all the heads they currently had in their party.

"Dean," Sam called, leaning back in his chair, "you sure adopting him was the right thing to do?"

Here it comes. "Dude. He needs some kind of… stability."

Sam's nose crinkled. "And you think a hunter's life can do the trick? Especially ours?"

Dean sighed and then turned to face his brother, and licked his lips. "He's never going to be normal. Never gonna have a normal life. Not after watching his mother…" Dean stopped and adjusted his shirt sleeve. "He's wanted by both sides, just like you, just like me. No matter where he goes, he's never gonna have the perfect life, but in this one, with us, he'll be able to deal with things and not have to hide things."

Sam turned back to his guns, "I know where you're coming from." Dean's eyebrows rose. Three hours ago he was all gung-ho about _not_ adopting Ben. "But is _now_ the time to be taking in kids? I mean, Lucifer is still out there, stronger than ever! It's just…"

Dean sighed – he'd been doing a lot of that lately – and walked up and sat down with his baby brother. "…just one more thing to worry about?"

"Well… yeah. Why do that to yourself?"

Dean looked at the door that held his newly-acquired son and thought of how Ben acted down in that factory pit and how he was strong and holding it together until Lisa showed up, and how broken Ben was after Lisa was just laying there. And the promise that Dean made to him in the few short moments that followed that.

"Look at it less like one more thing to worry about, and look at it more like one more thing to fight for."

Sam blinked, and reached for his beer bottle. He didn't say anything.

"Sammy, he needs us. End of story." And with that, Dean walked into the third room to talk to his son.

"Hey Ben," the boy was just lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Hi, Dean." He turned his head to look at the hunter. "You do know I could hear every word you said to him, right?"

Dean pursed his lips, "Nope. Guess it doesn't matter."

"How's Cas?"

"Huh?"

"The Angel? How is he?"

Dean moved to sit down on the bed, "Still has a fever. He doesn't remember anything from the last week or so… I think he got hit on the head when the roof caved in."

Bed nodded, it had been quite chaotic. It was a wonder nobody was seriously hurt…

"Speaking of which," Dean said, shifting gears. "How's your back?"

Ben looked up, "You want to check it?"

Dean smiled. He had been holding this joke in ever since he put on the last bandage, "Yeah! We want to make sure that it doesn't get infected and we have to slice a whole layer of skin off your back!" He waited for a reaction of fear from Ben, but when all he got was a '_psh, yeah, right,'_ face, Dean was disappointed. "What?"

"I'm ten, not five. I know they won't do that."

Dean reached for the medical supplies they had left on the table from the day before. "It would have worked on Sam when he was ten."

"Really? And he went to college?"

Dean leaned in and lowered his voice, "You're only saying this stuff because you know he can hear it right?"

"Yep."

"I knew I adopted you for a reason." Ben giggled and suddenly Dean's '_To Deal With'_ list didn't seem that daunting.

* * *

Dean heard the familiar whine of Bobby's van outside the motel about four hours later. He had re-cleaned Ben's cut and the two of them settled in to watching some television and snoozed when the noon news came on and warned everyone of more snow.

Ben shook him awake, "They're back." He sat up slowly and began to dig the sleep out of his eyes. Ben was staring him, expectantly.

"What?"

"The stairs? You and Sam had to lift him last time…"

Realization hit him. Bobby. That car sound was Bobby, "Right." He groaned and jumped up. Walking back through the second room, Sam was already halfway out the door to help. Dean stopped.

"Dude," he hollered, "where's Liz?"

Sam turned back to him, "Cleaning snow off her truck. This shit has been coming down ever since you got back."

"More snow?"

Sam nodded and shrugged into his coat.

"I hate Indiana." Sam let out a bark of a laugh and couldn't help but agree. Dean then eyed his brother, "You still trust Liz? You've spent more time with her than I did."

Sam pulled on his coat and took a deep breath, "Yeah, Dean, I do." His eyes were open and innocent. Dean felt himself relax; there was no guilt or weight in Sam's eyes like there was with Ruby. He was telling the truth.

"I mean," Sam continued, "If it weren't for her, we would have never found you guys. She may be new to the game, but – she's a good hunter."

"And…" Dean trailed. "Most hunters, when they find out just how the Apocalypse started, tend to turn on us…"

"I don't think she will. I mean, the way she talks, her and Jo were pretty close. She knows that Jo trusted us, and she trusted Jo, so she trusts us."

Dean nodded and clapped a hand on Sam's shoulder. He reached for the door handle. "She's still not sleeping in my room."

Sam snorted, "Big baby…"

"Damn right."

By the time the brothers were outside, Bobby had found the one and only wheelchair ramp all the way at the end of the building. "Took you nincompoops long enough. I'm fine." He began to push himself through slush and snow past the boys into the motel room. He waved over his shoulder, "Help the little lady."

"I'm not little," came a voice from behind the van. A swoosh of hydraulics filled the parking lot as the back of Bobby's van lifted. Sam rushed out to help, but Dean stayed to make sure Bobby could get over the hump of snow that had formed at their door.

"Hey Bobby!" Ben greeted and the old hunter answered by scuffing up Ben's hair. He used to do that to Sam and Dean when they were little. Dean smiled and began to push him in but Bobby swatted at his hands as Ben took over wheelchair detail.

"Help your brother."

Behind the van, stood Sam holding a large duffle bag and a backpack, hand on the door of the van about to close it.

Claire Novak stood next to him, shivering in her coat and staring at something in the back of Bobby's van. Dean peeked around to see what it was. "Need any more help, Claire?"

"No," her voice was small. "It's just strange to think everything my parents…" she bit her lip. "Everything of theirs is sitting in these boxes, waiting to go to storage."

Sam looked at Dean, uncertain of what to say. Dean took a deep breath and adjusted his boots in the slush. "You know this is for the best, right? Otherwise you'd…"

"I'd go into the system or back with my Aunt and I'd be vulnerable and in the open." She said it like a robot, listing her commands. "Easy demon target."

"Right."

She fingered a strap to another bag, as if she were trying to decide something. She pulled it out and pushed it into Dean. "These are some old clothes of my dad's. T-shirts, sweat pants, a pair of jeans. They're for… _him_." She never looked Dean in the eye.

"Thank you, Claire."

She looked up and was changed; where the weak and small girl once stood, now stood a strong and angry young woman, familiar blue eyes wild and fiery, "Do not expect me to be okay with all of this."

"I'm not."

She stepped into Dean's space; shoulder's square, "That man is _wearing _my father! It's because of him I'm in this situation."

Dean shut his eyes, "I know."

She looked back down, the strong young woman melting back into the little girl. She took her backpack from Sam and wiped at her nose. Dean looked at his brother and slumped his shoulders as he settled down against the bumper of the van.

"She's gonna be fun," Sam said as he readjusted Claire's purple duffle bag.

Dean wiped his face, his cold hands feeling good against his stubble. He needed to shave soon – he hadn't in a couple of days – he'd been too busy. Looking up at his little brother he let out a puff of air that became white in an instant.

"We couldn't just…"

"I know. This may all be crazy with Cas out of it and a couple of little kids running around, but it feels right."

Dean felt his eyebrows meet. "Mr. _We're-fine-on-our-own_ is suddenly Mr_. Family _man?" He felt the corner of his mouth rise.

"Dude," Sam's nose crinkled again. "Move." He began to shut the back of the van, "Besides – I'm not the one who just adopted a kid, and I'm not the one whose boyfriend is passed out in the other room."

Dean gave him a dirty look as he stood and moved away, "Bitch."

The door slammed shut, "Jerk."


	4. Chapter 3

The third time Castiel woke up, he sat up straight and reached for the can that Sam had sat next to his bed the first time he woke up. He did not enjoy vomiting, although it seemed as though his stomach seemed to disagree with that assessment.

It felt like his stomach was willing and happy to show him what it had been doing.

Castiel threw himself back on the pillows once he was done vomiting and laughed, because the image of his stomach wagging its tail like some loyal puppy was too much for him.

"You okay, Cas?"

Turning his head and looking over his pillows with one eye, Castiel saw Dean standing in the doorway. "Yes. But my stomach is still wagging its tail."

"What?" It was a deadpan reaction and Castiel was simultaneously upset that Dean did not see the joke and was understanding that he did not get the joke. He was thrown at feeling two things at once. They were contradictory emotions and they were felt at the same time, in compliance with each other. He pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes.

Well, he was thinking in better words, his fever must be dissipating.

"Cas?" Dean asked again, he sounded closer.

"My stomach hurts."

"It's probably because he hasn't eaten," the woman, Liz walked into the room. "I was about to make a grocery run before the snow got too much worse. I'll stop and get everybody something." Castiel moaned as he thought of eating. It seemed so… human.

Dean nodded and Liz backed out of the room awkwardly and suddenly, Bobby and Sam were in the room too. He felt like everyone was staring at him, crushing him, the suffocation and tightness he felt before was back. And then, the back of Dean's hand brushed across Castiel's forehead and the world slowed down. It was cool and soft and comforting and Castiel found himself leaning into it. His entire focus was on the feel of Dean's hand. He relaxed and could focus.

And then the hand was gone, Dean sat back and the world crushed down on him again. He kicked at the covers again at the feeling. He felt panic rise up and instead of stopping and disappearing, the feeling continued to rise and he felt it in his shoulders and he swore it flew out of his ears. He sat up, pushing the blankets to pile over the end of the bed and then pushed himself up against the headboard.

"Whoa, Cas!" Dean reached out, "Calm down. It's okay. You're safe. You're fine."

Suddenly a rubber band he didn't know he was pulling snapped, and Castiel turned to face Dean, "I am not fine!" He yelled. He pulled back into himself, tried to pull his wings around his body, but his wings were not there. He did not mean to be so loud.

"Okay!" Dean agreed, "Okay. It's okay. Can I help?"

Castiel looked up at Dean's worried face and felt his panic settling. He leaned forward again and rested his hand in his hands. "The emotions." He said.

"Well," Dean began, "you are human… humans have emotions."

"Yes," Castiel agreed, "But I didn't know they were like _this. _That you felt them with parts of your body and that you couldn't stop them or slow them down."

"Circuits overloaded?" Castiel turned to Dean, eyes focused for the first time since he woke up, and he felt his head tip to one side. Dean smirked, "It's just an expression, Cas."

"Oh." Castiel felt the room slow down and he knew that they were all waiting for him to do something, to say anything. He lifted his head and took a deep breath. And then he went to swallow what little bile was in his mouth. It was sticky and he felt his face grimacing.

Then Sam was holding a bottle of water against his mouth and suddenly, Castiel could not get enough water, but Dean pulled it away, "Whoa, slow down. Don't get sick!" He followed after the bottle; the water was helping him feel better as he felt it flow through him.

"There are so many rules."

Dean laughed, "Yeah. Again. Welcome to humanity."

Pathetically, Castiel lifted his eyes, and felt the weight of Dean's words. He sat still for a moment.

"Besides the crazy mood swings," Bobby asked from his chair, "how are you feelin'?"

Castiel assessed that question, and decided, "I could use more water. It was good."

Dean handed him the bottle, "Slow sips, Cas." He nodded and greedily raised the lip of the bottle to his mouth.

'_Slow, Castiel,_' he reminded himself when he had the urge to gulp for days. _'Slow.'_

"You remembering anything from the last week yet?" Sam asked, shuffling his feet and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Castiel focused on the wall across from the bed and squinted his eyes as if it would help the memories to return. He shook his head no. He took another sip of water.

"Looks like we're still gonna have to have story time…" Bobby groaned. He smacked Sam, "Boy, get me a beer."

Dean was sitting in a chair next to Castiel's bed. He was leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, concern written all over his shoulders and face. Castiel suddenly felt guilty. They would not be going through all of this if it weren't for him. The need for forgiveness rose in his throat again.

"I'm sorry," he was looking at Dean as his green eyes narrowed in confusion.

"What for?" He scoffed and leaned further forward, "You saved my life."

"You are important." It was true. Even as an Angel, Castiel had felt gravitation towards the hunter. Now, as a human, that pull seemed much stronger and he did not understand why.

He smirked, "And me being important makes you sorry?"

Castiel's eyebrows furrowed at the flaw in him logic being pointed out. "Those thoughts had a connection a moment ago…"

Dean smiled, "You ready to learn what happened?"

Castiel was about to open his mouth to answer, 'yes,' but Ben had let himself into the room.

"I was kidnapped. Almost two weeks ago. Demons did it."

"Yeah," Dean started, "his mother called me early one morning for help…"

* * *

"Dean!" Sam yelled again from the bed next to him.

Dean moaned. He was having a particularly amazing dream; one that was far from over and now he was in a sour mood. Rolling over, he eyed the bedside clock – _**4:19**_. Great, now he's really pissed. Dean snuggled down into one of his pillows, trying to get back to his perfect day. He didn't need to be up for another four hours. And now Sam was whining from under his own covers.

"_Deeeeaaaan."_ Came the muffled voice, "C'mon man, get your damn phone."

_Phone?_

Dean opened one eye and focused his hearing. Sure enough, his phone was vibrating on the night stand.

He snatched it, grumbling something about stupid angels and wasted minutes. "Cas, we have talked about the calling in the middle of the night thing _twice_ now."

The other end of the line was quiet for a moment, "…is this Dean Winchester?" It was a woman. Dean sat up straight, immediately interested.

"Uh," he said intelligently.

"Bobby Singer gave me this number…" the woman tried again. "I'm sorry if…"

"No!" Dean cleared his throat, "I mean, yes. This is Dean." Sam lifted his head off his pillow and squinted in Dean's general direction.

"Hi," the voice started. "This is Lisa Braeden." Still being early, and waking up suddenly and all, Dean rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry that it's so early. I just… do you remember me?"

"Lisa? Yeah, I remember you," Dean cleared his throat again. Cursing himself for having such a hard time waking up.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother and turned back into his pillow. "You should really tell your booty calls to call earlier in the night. Seriously."

"Shut up, Sam. She got the number from Bobby." Once again, Sam lifted his head off the pillow. He even propped himself up and started to rub the sleep out of his eyes. "Sorry Lisa. 'Course I remember you. You're Ben's mom. Gumby girl." He forced himself back into the present.

There was a moment of silence before she answered with a small, "Gumby girl?"

"…never mind that." He cleared his throat again. "Well," Dean smirked, as if it would woo her through his cell phone, "what's the occasion?"

"It's stupid, really. I don't even think it's up your guys' alley," she chuckled. "But I don't know what else to do."

"What is it, Lisa?"

"My son is missing."

A half hour later, Sam had showered and Dean had packed his bags and they were loading the Impala getting ready for the hour drive ahead of them to Cicero, Indiana.

"Dean," Sam began to argue, throwing his computer bag into the backseat, "she said it wasn't up our alley. That it was a normal kidnapping."

He paused, resting his hands on the rim of the trunk, "It's been a week since anyone saw him, Sam."

"Does that really mean that we take time out of Devil hunting to search for him?"

Dean looked up at his little brother, "He's important, okay?"

"Why?" Sam slammed the door, "I mean, I know he's just a kid, but you've always taken a special interest in him. Why?"

"Because," Dean said. "I don't have to explain myself to you."

Sam shook his head, "Dean…"

"Just," he slammed the trunk shut, silently apologizing to his baby when she groaned in protest, "leave it alone, Sam. They are old friends. Least we can do is go try."

Sam's jaw twitched; it was a signal that Dean had won. He stalked back into the motel, Sam close on his heels.

* * *

"So," Castiel began eyes on Ben, "you were kidnapped by Demons, but your mother did not know it?"

Ben nodded. "I was underground and tied up for weeks. I was alone for a couple days, and then a priest showed up. And then more people were brought in after that. I was fed, and they didn't hurt me or anything. It was weird."

Dean turned his attention to Castiel, "The authorities all thought it was a normal grab and bag, but a little investigating proved that it was a bit more than that."

Castiel nodded, "And the woman? Liz?"

Sam spoke up, "She found us that same morning. She was hurt pretty bad."

* * *

"You got everything?" Dean asked from inside the room. Sam nodded and grunted a yes, leaning against the wall outside the door. Dean figured that he would get earfuls during the ride. He grabbed his jacket and paused at the light switch, giving the room a once-over.

"Dean," Sam's voice was serious. Dean saw him reach for his knife. "We have a visitor."

A blue truck pulled up next to the Impala, it had a smooth hum to its engine and a cover on the bed. Out stepped a woman, light brown hair falling out of a braid, her jeans soaked in blood from where a cut on her arm had been resting while she drove, not to mention a deep cut along her hair line. She winced when she put weight down on her left foot, pathetically jumping on one foot to get out of the way to close the door. In her hand – the one that was obviously the one that wasn't bleeding profusely from her forearm – she held a single shotgun.

She paused when she saw Sam and Dean staring her down.

"You the Winchesters?" she asked. Dean saw her finger the trigger.

"Who's askin'?" Dean shot back at her.

"My name is Liz. Bobby Singer told me I could find you here."

Sam sent Dean a look that clearly said 'we don't have time for this,' and Dean couldn't agree more. "Well, he's been doing a lot of that lately."

"Ellen Harvelle told me you guys would help me if I ever needed it." Dean paused.

It wasn't shock that rushed through Dean, but sadness. Another friend that didn't know. Another retelling of how she died – of how she died for nothing. Another round of dirty looks and sad faces. Dean had more sad faces in his life than he really had the stomach for.

"You knew Ellen?" Sam asked.

She smirked, and then winced like she regretted moving her cheek. "Ellen was the one that helped me get started in the business in the first place." Then she stilled as if Sam's words caught up with her, "Wait, knew?"

The boys nodded sadly.

Her shoulders slumped and she stilled against the front of her truck. She seemed to study the ground before adjusting her grip on her gun, "How long ago?"

"About two months."

Liz bit her lip and pulled her wounded arm closer, "She went down fighting, right?"

Dean nodded.

"Good," it was all she said.

Dean took a deep breath, and stared up at his little brother, and then he waved at Liz, "Well come on in. Let's get those injuries looked at." He ignored Sam's face as he said it, but he couldn't ignore the grip on his elbow.

"What about Ben?" Sam asked low enough it was out of earshot.

"She obviously needs our help," Dean gestured to the bloody girl. She had only taken a moment to adjust her weapon in her hand and start their way. "And if Ellen sent her…"

He nodded, "Yeah. I get it." He flashed his flask to his brother. Dean smirked and agreed.

Just as Liz was within distance, Sam threw a splash of holy water on her face. She stood for a moment, trying to calm herself down from the shock. "I should have expected that." She looked up at Sam, "Did I pass your test? Am I allowed in the tree house?"

Dean smirked and walked back into the room. Sam laughed awkwardly, and motioned her on "I'm sorry – we had to be sure."

She nodded, "I understand."

"What exactly got you all bloody?" Dean asked, throwing his jacket back down on the bed.

"A demon," Liz answered. "The first I ever tried to hunt."

"How long have you been doing this?" Sam asked, heading to the bathroom.

"About two years. Hardcore for about eight months," she sat herself down rigidly at the motel's room poor excuse for a dining table. "Witches mostly, a werewolf a few months ago. Uh…" she picked at her sleeve that was soaked in sticky red goo; she made a face – like the sight of her blood was worse than her pain. "A Chupacabra once. But that was with Jo – you know her, right? Oh, God Jo - her mom…"

"Jo's gone too," Dean said, fiddling with the clasp on the first aid kit.

"Well, shit," Liz cursed, leaning forward on the table with her good arm. She looked like she was about to get sick. Dean watched as she shook her head once and then sat up again, sniffing back tears and wiping her face. She still looked nauseous.

Dean wouldn't blame her, "You okay?" Her eyes found something interesting on the carpet and didn't look up at him as she shook her head.

"I got in the game at the wrong time, ya' know?"

Sam came back in the room, wet washcloths and clean towels ready to hand off to her, "I don't think there is ever a right time."

She looked up at Sam, but didn't say anything. She seemed a little… lost. He leaned down and started to clean the cut on her forehead and her eyes found the spot on the carpet again.

"I'd never faced a demon before."

Dean started pulling out alcohol pads and gauze, "And you thought you could handle one on your own?"

"I had tracked it for days. I figured it was alone, I never saw it with anyone else."

Sam refolded the washcloth, "I mean, if you've never faced a demon before, how did you know what to do?"

"Well," she seemed a little wary of a stranger suddenly in her personal space, "every hunter I've come across has their fair share of demon stories. Most are all too happy to share them. It was only a matter of time before I ran across one of my own."

"Word of mouth?" Dean asked. "You went head to head with a demon based on stories that some guys told you over a couple of beers?" Dean hated it when hunters thought they could handle something that was over their heads.

Like killing the devil and saving the world, for instance.

She turned to face Dean with a look that he could not decipher, "Isn't that how it's done? You have a buddy that did it such-and-such way once, so you try it out yourself?"

Sam turned to Dean with a 'she's got a point' face. Dean returned one that said, 'I know, shut up.'

"Why us?"

"I called Jo for help first, but she never answered…" She bit her lip as she turned green again. "Now I know why. Then I called Bobby, to ask who was in the area. He always seems to be on top of that nowadays." She took the washcloth from Sam when he went to clean her arm, "I can do that."

He stepped back, "I'll go find a bowl for the water." She nodded and began trying to take off her flannel shirt. Obviously struggling, Dean stood to help her.

"I'm fine!" she shrugged away from him.

"Look lady," he threw his hands up, "part of asking another hunter for help is first aid. You're hurt. Priority one: get patched up. Then kill monsters."

She blinked up at Dean, her brown eyes full of shame. It threw Dean off his game for a second. "I just…" she looked away, "I haven't failed at killing anything yet. Not until last night, at least. And finding out about Ellen and _Jo…_"

"Hey, you're still alive, that's what matters. You haven't failed; your job's just not done." Dean swallowed deeply, realizing he seemed to sounding more and more like Bobby these days.

Liz looked back up at him, eyes full of gratitude, "Thanks."

He nodded.

Dean pulled the flannel off her shoulders, down to her black tank top, and noticed she had light cuts down the back of her shoulder. "Man, whatever son of a bitch got you, got you good."

She just started cleaning the cut on her forearm.

Sam came back in and one ace bandage on her ankle, a stitching job on her arm, and half their stock of alcohol wipe pads later, she was all patched up. They talked about the demon Liz faced as she washed the blood out of her hair in the sink.

"I think it's targeting priests," she had said, "three have disappeared from towns outside Indianapolis since last week." The towns were far enough away that the authorities didn't take notice, but Liz did when her research led her to something interesting about two of them.

"They're cousins?" Dean asked, looking over her paperwork. "This Father Smith and this Father Thomas? They're family?"

"Yep," she reached in her bag and pulled out a few more printed newspaper pages. "Then I did some more digging." She started to dry her hair with a towel as she spoke. "In the last six months, there have been twenty seven religious leaders go missing in the New England states alone. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, you guys are the experts in this subject, but didn't a big bad just get released a little over six months ago?"

Sam swallowed hard as he readjusted in his chair and avoided eye contact. Dean rolled his eyes at his brother.

"You think this has something to do with Lucifer rising?" Dean asked in his place.

"That's what I thought to begin with, so I dug some more, and got a lead on a demon. I followed it around for days. She never made contact with anyone or anything, so I confronted her. Got the shit beat out me. Came here."

"Right," Sam said, piling up her research. "Take us to this demon."

"Wait!" Dean stalled his brother's hands, "I can't just leave Lisa and Ben high and dry."

"Yeah Dean, sure. But this is an actual job! With demons and a possible lead on Lucifer. This is what we need to be doing."

He didn't look up to meet eyes, "I promised her, Sam."

Liz stood awkwardly for a moment, "If you were working a job, I'd understand…"

"No," Sam interrupted her, not breaking his gaze from Dean. "This is good work, Liz."

Dean stood and started over to the bed for his jacket, "I'm going to Cicero to help Lisa, Sam."

"Why, Dean? Call her and tell her…"

"What?" Dean turned on him, "That her son is no longer important? That I have better things to do?"

Instantly Sam had wounded puppy written all over his posture, "No, that's not what I meant."

"I know. I'll go check out Ben's case. You go with Liz to do more recon. We'll meet up in a day or two, kill this demon of yours," he pointed at Liz, "and everyone's happy."

Sam stood, "Split up? Dean, I don't like that idea. Not now, not after what just happened with…"

"Oh, come on Sammy." He threw his arms wide open. "You wanted to grow up, have a little space. Here's your chance! Don't prove me wrong."

Liz once again stood awkwardly as she tried to discretely put on a clean shirt and ignore the brothers. She was trying to pretend they weren't there and it wasn't working. She hated awkward situations.

"Dean…"

"Look," he gripped his brother's shoulders, "it's a few days. Ben's case sounds like nothing, but I'm gonna go anyway. I owe it to him and to his mom. You aren't going to go after this demon until I meet back up with you. We're all gonna be okay."

Sam's jaw clenched. Dean knew he won.

"Come get your things out of the trunk."

A half hour later it had begun to snow and the youngest Winchester was sitting passenger to Liz on his way to Carmel, Indiana, and he had a bad feeling. And when Sam had bad feelings, he generally knew when to trust them. The bad feeling was not about Liz – he liked Liz, she reminded him of Ellen a bit – but the bad feeling was not about the demon she was leading him to almost two hours away from Lafayette, instead his bad feeling was centered around his big brother.

And for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why.


	5. Chapter 4

"And then you called me, and I joined you in the car," Castiel's wide eyes turned toward Dean.

Dean nodded, "You and I kinda had a… a fight."

"A fight?" Sam asked, obviously just as confused as Castiel.

"Yeah," he ran a hand through his hair. "You called and we met up on the side of the highway. It was weird; you opened the door to get in the car. I'd never seen you do that. Anyway, we were fine all the way until we got to Lisa's driveway. We had a heated discussion over whether it was smart or not to leave Sam alone hunting a demon. Especially after round two of demon blood-detox."

Castiel nodded slowly. "I was just thinking that it was very unwise that the two of you split up."

"Awesome," Dean started, tone drenched in sarcasm. "Good to know you and I still see eye to eye."

Castiel felt remorse climb up his throat again, "I'm sorry."

Dean blinked at him, and Castiel just stared back.

"Well," Sam broke the tension, "at least I know why you were so huffy when you popped into the back seat of Liz's truck."

Turning his attention on the taller hunter, "What?"

"Yeah," Sam pulled up a chair. "Liz is pretty cool. I mean, you'll have to get to know her again. But it's nice having another hunter on our side."

"Really?"

"You could call her…" Sam stalled and shared a look with Dean who rolled his eyes and laughed a little before looking back at Castiel. "…you could call her a fan."

* * *

Normally, Sam was good with meeting new people, but Liz seemed to be hard to talk to. It wasn't like she was being antisocial or anything – it's just that she seemed to be shy (which was unusual for hunters) and a bit serious (which wasn't so unusual.) Her truck had a back seat and was certainly roomier than most cars Sam had rode in, but the dying conversations were making the cab feel much smaller than it actually was.

"Do you have any family?"

"Nope."

Questions would start and then they would end as suddenly as they began.

"Where are you from?"

"Texas."

"Yeah? What was that like?"

"Like Texas."

Sam just couldn't seem to find a topic that went on to a conversation. And he has learned the hard way that you don't just ask a hunter why they started hunting. It was sore topic for most.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty five."

Not even a joke about asking a lady her age. Sam then tried a new tactic:

"Did you go to college?"

"Yes. A school in Texas."

"State or University of?"

"Neither," she said. "It was a smaller university."

"Why'd you choose that school?"

"I followed my boyfriend there."

Sam smiled, now they were getting somewhere. "Really?"

"Yep."

"What happened to him?"

Her face fell, "He died."

Sam licked his lips a little unsure if he wanted to open up. "My college girlfriend died too."

She adjusted herself in her seat, finding a new grip on the steering wheel, "Really?"

He nodded, "I was going to ask her to marry me. I was looking at rings and everything." He saw her smile, but she didn't take her eyes off the road.

"What was her name?"

Sam smiled. Usually when the topic of Jessica came up, people wanted to know how long it had been since she had died, how she had died, and other painful topics Sam took great strides in avoiding. But Liz seemed to understand. "Jessica."

She stilled for just a moment, nothing for Sam to take notice of. "I've always liked that name," Liz was full on smiling now, and she shot Sam a quick glance, "What was she like?"

Sam felt himself smiling. He let his mind fall back into a time of sugar cookies and honey scented lotion. "Amazing. She made want to be more. Ya' know? More than a hunter following his dad's footsteps. I was a real mess for awhile. Threw myself into hunting after a demon got her."

"Didn't you have a scholarship to law school or something like that?"

"It was an interview and…" Sam paused, "How did you know that?"

She laughed nervously. "You have heard of the "Supernatural" books, right? I mean, you're one of the main characters."

Sam blinked. "What?"

"How did you guys do that? Someone pay you to tell your story? Ellen says they're real." She turned back to the road, suddenly somber. "Said they're real."

"Uh," Sam stuttered, "yeah. They're real. So, you've read them?" Liz nodded, obviously embarrassed. Sam swallowed a gulp in his throat. "Really?"

"Yeah," she answered, "the third volume really got me through a tough time. Tease me if you want, but reading about you in denial about Dean goin' to hell really… helped."

"Helped?"

She looked at him, face red, "It doesn't matter. So how'd they come to be if they are real? Man!" She exclaimed suddenly, smiling. "There is quite the passionate fan base that would be a little ecstatic to find everything in those books was based on reality."

"Let me ask you a question," Sam turned in his seat to face her as best he could with his long legs piled under the dash board.

"Sure," Liz sat up straight and threw a chunk of hair over her the back of her shoulder.

"Did you ever write fanfiction?"

She let out a quick bark of a laugh, "No. Read some, never wrote any. I'm not much of a writer."

"Good."

She laughed, and pushed hair behind her ears. "You gonna answer my question?"

"You might not believe me."

"Three years ago, maybe. Now? I'm open to just about anything."

Sam smirked. She asked for it. "They are the Word of God, sent through the Prophet Chuck. You know him as Carver Edlund. They tell the story of me and my brother and will, supposedly, one day be read like a Gospel to the masses."

They sat in silence for a moment before Liz responded, "The Word of God?"

"Yes."

"A Gospel?"

"Yes."

"Like, The Gospel according to Sam and Dean?"

He smiled awkwardly. "I guess so."

She blinked and then nodded acceptingly. "So if you guys succeed in saving the world, my first additions should be worth something someday."

It became Sam's turn to laugh. She smiled at him and conversation came to a natural lull – each of them much more comfortable than before. Sam sighed as he stretched out over the passenger seat, relaxed as Liz turned on the windshield wipers as the first few flakes melted against the glass.

"I love snow," she said happily. Sam had to agree.

"I find it to be bland and repetitive."

The voice was deep and slow and it scared Liz to the point that she jerked so hard that she jumped lanes, causing a little blue car to honk angrily before she pulled the truck over to the shoulder of the road.

"Holy. Shit." She exclaimed as she rushed to reach in between her seat and the middle glove box for her shot gun. "What the hell are you?"

Sam hurried to push the shot gun down, "Liz! No!" He let out a nervous laugh and eyed Castiel, whose eyes were wide and focused on the shotgun. "Good guy."

She took some steadying breaths and uneasily put the shot gun down, "Well, still. What are you?"

"An Angel."

Her face was still for a moment, "Angel. Right. Of course." She turned back to sit properly in her seat, leaning her head back on the headrest and taking a few more deep breaths. "Why are you here?"

"He's a friend of mine," Sam spoke up.

She turned to him, eyebrow reaching for her hairline, "Friend?" She turned to look back at Castiel who was nodding enthusiastically. "My day just keeps getting weirder and weirder."

"Cas," Sam said, adjusting his legs again, "how'd you find us?"

"I felt this woman's soul on Dean and from there I tracked her soul."

"You can track souls?" Liz asked; her eyes were on him through the rear view mirror.

"Yes." Castiel answered.

"Huh!" She exclaimed and tugged on the ends of her hair.

Sam licked his lips, "You were with Dean?"

"Yes." He looked down at his hands, but didn't say anything more. "Now I am here to assist you."

Sam turned away and huffed, "More likely you're here to babysit me."

"That is not the case," his words came out stern and Sam felt shocked at his tone. "If you do not want my help then just say so."

"That's not what I…"

"Dean's case is not as demanding or as dangerous as yours. It is as simple as that."

"Okay Cas. I want your help."

Liz was busy looking back and forth between the two of them, unsure of when to interrupt. When the air started getting thick, she jumped in, "I'm Liz. By the way."

Sam stalled, "Right!" he exclaimed, "Right, Cas, this is Liz. She's a hunter. Liz, this is Cas. He's the Angel that pulled Dean out of Hell. He's kinda gone rogue since."

"I am a renegade," Cas said. Sam's eyebrows met for a moment and then blinked it away.

"He is also trying to learn more about the nuances of slang."

"No, I get it!" Liz said. "Like the song."

Castiel nodded briefly, he sat up and kind of puffed out his chest. Liz smiled at him. It was almost adorable. "I have yet to be caught though. I doubt my brothers will be forgiving when they do find me."

"Then we shouldn't stay in one place." She smirked and turned back to the wheel, pulling it back into drive. Then she caught his eyes in the rearview mirror. "Just don't jump in without warning anymore, okay?"

"Yes ma'm."

* * *

"From there we headed back to her hotel to learn more about the demon that kicked her butt."

Castiel nodded, and then took another sip of his water. He turned to Dean, "What was our fight about?"

Dean looked up at him quickly, and then just as quickly ran his eyes over everyone else in the room. He licked his lip, an action that unusually distracted Castiel from the whole world for just a moment (for some reason he had an unusual urge to know what that tongue tasted like and the thought of attacking and sucking on Dean's face scared him) and then the hunter sat back in his chair.

"Nothin' important."

Castiel was brought back at his words and way from thoughts of a tongue and the heat that ran up his thighs and he sipped his water again.

"Right," Bobby said, not convinced.

They all jumped a little when Ben opened a coke can, metal popping with a hiss. "Sorry," he said meekly. "Do you guys want one?"

Dean chuckled, "Nah, Ben. It's okay. Why don't you go check on Claire?"

"Claire?" Castiel snapped to attention, "Jimmy's daughter Claire?" Anxiety ran through him. He did not understand his sudden panic and the confusion ran over into fear. He was scared of what the little girl would think of him now. Memories of a small girl, long yellow hair, and wide blue eyes ran through his mind. Jimmy had given his body so Claire would not have to suffer.

He gave his life for her.

Everyone kind of shuffled for a moment, hesitant of what to say when a small voice popped in the doorframe of room next door.

"Yeah," Claire said. "Jimmy's daughter."

Her eyes were not as wide as they were a year ago.

Castiel did not know how to begin. "Claire…"

"The demons had tracked down vessels." Claire started, unmoving from her spot behind the doorframe. "Relatives of vessels in use were the targets at first. Once an angel wearing a vessel was recognized, the demons searched for the vessel's families."

Ben decided to speak up and help tell the story. "After they had the first dozen or so, they figured out that angels had specific bloodlines. If someone's father was a vessel, they were a vessel."

"It made us targets," Claire said. "After they captured a few vessels, they tore them apart and opened them up and found out what made them tick. After that, anybody that could be a vessel became a target."

"As long as they get a drop of your blood," Bobby spoke up, "they could find you."

"The priests that Liz had been investigating, the ones that went missing," Sam joined in, "they were vessels."

"Of course," Dean groaned, "we didn't realize that until all this was over."

It was a lot of information for Castiel to take in at once.

"So you were kidnapped too, Claire?"

She nodded. "And in case you're wondering, my mother is dead. And I'm now an orphan. And it's because you decided to take my father's skin out for a spin. It's all your fault!" She turned quickly and slammed the door signaling she wanted to be alone.

Castiel didn't know what to say so instead he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.

Claire Novak wasn't stupid.

* * *

She was young, innocent, naïve – maybe – but not stupid. Many people assumed, because she was a little, twelve year old girl, without a father, with yellow hair, with wide blue eyes, that she would be slower than everyone and that she was somehow less clued into the world around her. The summer she turned thirteen was the first summer her mother was a widow. That summer, she began to see the world differently than she did before. She didn't know if it was because she was getting older (and therefore wiser) or if it was because her father had become a casualty in a war the world didn't know it was fighting.

No, Claire wasn't stupid.

There was a moment, a few hours of her life, where she saw eternity and the cosmos and reveled in knowing everything, every detail of history was clear in her head like a favorite memory. There was a moment when she had overwhelming optimism for the future, so overwhelming – that she remembered crying at the feeling. There was a moment when she felt like she was flying, she was flying and falling and standing still all at the same time.

But that moment had passed. She remembered knowing everything – but she couldn't call upon the memories any longer. She remembered feeling that optimism – but, try as she might, she could not recreate an ounce of it. And she remembered flying, but she could not spread the wings that weren't there.

"_Your daughter is showing signs of a post traumatic stress disorder, Ms. Novak. Could there have been a situation which would have caused her to experience some kind of trauma?"_

"_Um… yes. She witnessed her father dying last spring."_

That was the story, at least.

The story of James Novak returning home after a year of being MIA only to rescue his family from the trouble he brought home with him. Well, that much was true – but the details they told everyone were that her father had fallen into drugs and a mafia hit had been placed on his head.

A little much, if you asked Claire.

"_I would like very much to continue seeing Claire once a week if that is alright? I believe we can get her back to her smiling, happy self again soon!"_

Looking up at the school counselor through heavy blue eyes, Claire could see straight through her. With her stringy red hair and her square glasses hanging achingly close to the tip of her nose. She thought herself important, she thought that she could help Claire be Claire again; to find what was missing and pour it back into her like she was one of the potted plants that were overwhelming the office and watch her grow. But Claire would never be Claire again. Not when there was so much more out there, so much more that she will never know again. Not when she felt what it was like to have the confidence of Heaven flow through her.

Not when her destiny would never be fully realized.

She was a vessel. That was her duty and her reason. A vessel whose Angel would never need her services again. She was walking lost with no idea where to go from that and no amount of _"how does that make you feel?"_s are going to help; she wasn't stupid.

She was just useless.

So when she walked through the door after school on some random Tuesday afternoon the January after she turned thirteen, she was just a little excited to see that demons had over taken her house. She had a quick thought that maybe the Angel Castiel would come back and save her and she'd at least get to _see_ her father again.

"Claire!" Her mother had screamed. "Run!"

Claire didn't get far before she was grabbed and her mother was killed in front of her.

A few hours later, she was tied to a post stuck onto a concrete floor underground somewhere. There were others, a couple of grey haired men, a black woman with a wild afro, and a boy – maybe ten years old. They were all tied to similar posts, starring at her – wide eyes expectant and worried.

And in the middle of the room, sat a woman with long, dark brown hair and tall high heeled boots fiddling with a knife.

"Hello Claire," the woman said and the other's all turned to look at her. "My name is Meg."

* * *

Hey if you liked it, let me know. Hell, if you hated it, let me know. A simple one worded response = love. Seriously. *is a review whore* :)


	6. Chapter 5

"Are you okay, Cas?"

He only shook his head.

"What's going on?"

He turned his head to face Dean, "I have no idea."

Dean leaned forward, hands jerking like they wanted to reach out to touch him, but they settled for leaning on the bed and holding Dean's chin. "You gotta start somewhere, man." Dean's eyes were full of worry and concern and Castiel felt himself staring back.

"Cas," Dean urged, "what's wrong?"

"Claire…" Castiel began, sitting up, Dean following suit and sitting up in his chair, "…she's lost everything because… because of me. All these vessels the-"

Castiel was interrupted by Liz walking in, the smell of French fries wafting in after her. She had little white headphones in her ear and she was softly humming along to a song that was clearly upbeat. When she realized that everyone was watching her walk through the door she paused, and then smiled.

That smile only lasted a moment before she was frowning, "Seriously? My hands are full of food and groceries and you just sit there and stare like I'm going to grow a tail?"

"Boys!" Bobby reprimanded, "help her!"

Dean, Sam, and Ben all jumped up at the same time, all rushing over to pull bags out of Liz's arms. She was smiling at their sudden eagerness. "Thank you." She said, shutting the door with her foot. Once her arms were empty, she turned to Cas, "How are you doing?"

"I think you were right when you said I needed food." He was looking at Ben, who had grabbed the Whataburger bag and had already started taking its contents out. He licked his lips. "I smell those cheeseburgers from here."

Dean laughed, "Let's keep our burger-count below one hundred, huh?"

Castiel felt the corners of his mouth lift. The amusement in Dean's voice was satisfying. "I doubt I will be able to eat that much without my Grace assisting me."

"Well here," Ben said, handing him a sandwich. The familiar foil crinkled in his hand and he felt his stomach move. Then it made a growling sound. Ben laughed, "I guess you were hungry." He looked up at Dean, "I'm gonna go see if Claire wants a sandwich."

"That's a good idea. Take her a coke, too."

Ben lit up and nodded and rushed through the adjoining motel door. Dean shook his head. "We gotta watch it Cas," he said, handing him a fresh bottle of water, "or Ben is gonna end up head over heels for Claire."

Already a bite into his sandwich, Castiel spoke, "You think that they would make a good match?"

"No!" Dean said, popping open his own can, "Just that Ben… well, he likes girls and my experience with teenage girls is …. Very limited."

"I don't understand."

Dean paused, "Don't worry about it. Just thinking out loud."

Castiel took another happy bite of his sandwich.

* * *

"Hey, Claire."

Claire looked up, pulling a headphone out of her ear. "Hey, Ben."

"You want a burger?" His voice was so hopeful, she couldn't turn him down.

Together they sat, silently eating. Ben was content, even if there were questions bugging him that he desperately wanted to ask. Like, how did she stay so calm down on that factory floor? What was it like seeing her mother be killed? If she was okay with the two of them becoming allies in this crazy world of adults making decisions for them?

Instead, she broke the silence, "What are they talking about? I can only make out a few things."

"They're just telling Cas the whole story."

Claire lowered her burger to her lap, sighing and trying to hide behind a curtain of hair.

"Are you okay?"

After a moment, she slowly shook her head.

"It's going to be okay, you know. It might not feel like it, but it will. It might seem like everything is as bad as it gets but things are always that way before things get better. And besides. We're with Dean. As long as he's around, we're good. We're safe." Claire didn't move, but Ben was proud of his speech.

"I'm not scared."

"Well, I am."

Claire looked up, "but you've got Dean." She adjusted her foot and nudged his shin. "You're good. You're safe." And then, after a moment, "What's wrong?"

"It's not going to make you feel better."

She smiled, "I doubt anything will for awhile. Besides, us kids have gotta stick together."

"It's just…" he trailed, picking at his coke can's lip, "Yeah, he's protecting us, but who's protecting him?"

She didn't have an answer.

* * *

The last thing Dean remembers is walking through a baseball park. The same park that Lisa had said Ben had last been seen in. He remembered Lisa's wide brown eyes, full of tears and despair. '_Nothing about this feels normal, Dean!_' she had cried.

The next thing he knew, his wrists were scratching against the sharp metal that he had come to know as handcuffs.

"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!" The voice was annoying, like whoever was saying it was only talking out of the side of her mouth. Dean was groggy and his vision was blurry. He blinked roughly to get rid of the feeling. The thought that he was sleeping hit him and adrenaline rushed through him. He never lay down and planned on sleep.

He tried to pull his hands around to wipe at his eyes, but then he realized that his hands were tied behind his back. He struggled and then blinked furiously again, trying to make the woman talking come into focus.

"Oh sorry, Sweetheart, that's the chloroform. The grunts got it in your eyes by accident on the first try."

"Meg," he whispered.

"Ding ding ding! We have a winner!"

Dean stayed quiet, waiting for his eyes to catch up with his brain.

"Don't you want to know where you are? How you got here?" She lowered her voice to mock him, "What I want with you?"

Dean didn't speak. The blur in front of him that he guessed Meg had stood and moved closer to him.

"Don't worry Schnuckums." She took hold of his chin and got close enough he could feel her breath on his nose. He blinked and the world cleared. He could see she was grinning. "We have plans for your meat suit, even if little Sammy says no to savin' you."

"Bitch," he bit out.

"I love it when you call me such pretty names, Sweet Pea." She stood back up and he heard her sigh, "Too bad my father is otherwise preoccupied. He'll be here as soon as Pestilence's ritual is over. Orders say to wait. It's such a shame, considering our history." Her hands were on her hips. His vision was getting better as he could see they were now underground.

"Go back to Hell."

"Why don't you come with me and you buy me dinner and we can call it a date?"

Dean didn't say another word, sending daggers in the direction he hoped were her eyes.

"We'll play soon, Dean-o, I promise."

She turned, walked up a long stairway and the slammed door echoed around him. Then the echoes of the door's locks followed and Dean began focusing on his eyes again.

* * *

"Our side of this whole thing is pretty boring really," Sam mused. "I mean, at least until Lucifer calls."

"Lucifer called you? As in on the phone?"

"…yeah."

"You're getting ahead of yourself, dumbass."

"Well you tell it then!"

"Shut up, and maybe I can!"

"Well be my guest!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"You two ladies done?"

"Shut up, Bobby!"

"Well, you could sit here and argue or you could get on with it!"

"Before Samantha got ahead of herself…"

"Dean!"

"Shut up, Sam! Anyway… down in the factory they pulled me into this other room. Let's just say they stole my phone, tortured me and let's move on."

"You were tortured?"

"There are worse things for me to go through, Liz."

"Like what?"

"…like him being the one to hold the knife."

Everyone was still at Castiel's words. Dean spoke again slowly, "He's right. I never want to start torturing again."

"Again?"

"…yeah."

"Oh."

"Anyway…"

* * *

Dean was thrown down next to a curved metal pole in a room with a handful of people. He was handcuffed around the pole, his head still pounding from the echoes of fists and knuckles.

"Dean?" It was Ben.

"Hey Ben," Dean smirked through the pain in his face. "Your mom is looking for you."

He lit up with hope. "That's good!"

"But what do they wan-"

"Hey, Dean." Another voice sounded, interrupting him. He turned over his shoulder to see a small blonde girl tied to a post.

"Claire?"

"Yeah," she said softly. "How's Castiel?"

"Fine, last time I saw him."

Her eyes fell to the ground.

"You know these kids?" A balding man, maybe fifty asked.

Eyeing Ben, who was almost smiling and Claire who looked like the world had already ended, and shrugged. "Yeah, you are?"

"Father Thomas. Are you here to help us?"

Dean pulled at his handcuffs, "That was the plan. I didn't exactly know that demons were involved," he laughed with sarcasm.

"Demons?" The black lady in the corner asked. "You know what they want with us?"

Dean started to shrug, but Claire cut him off, her voice laced with disdain and fear. "We're all vessels, Dean. They've been kidnapping vessels."

"For Angels," the second man said, with disbelief. "Angels are the good guys."

"Not all of them," Claire said, completely monotone.

Dean reshuffled himself so he was sitting more comfortably, "It's true. The Apocalypse is kinda going on. Angels need humans to possess just like demons, but demons can possess anyone. It takes a special person to be a vessel for an Angel." He smiled with fake enthusiasm. "Congratulations! You're a Holy Meat Suit!"

"If you were our rescue party," the woman moaned, lowering her head into her knees, "we are screwed, aren't we?"

"Sam is still out there!" Ben chimed.

"Sam?" Father Thomas asked.

"His brother! The two of them fight evil stuff like this all the time! We're gonna be okay!" Ben's attitude about the whole situation was so great that Dean didn't have the heart to tell him that Sam had no idea where he was or that he was even in trouble.

They were screwed.


	7. Chapter 6

"So, you really pulled Dean out of Hell?"

"Yes. I led my battalion into Hell for Dean."

"A whole battalion? Of Angels?"

"Yes. Angels are the warriors of Heaven. We do not sit on clouds and play harps."

Internally laughing at Castiel's unintended joke, he suddenly wished that Dean was with them. He would have enjoyed this, demon stalking aside. He smirked as he continued staring out the window to the last place Liz had seen her demon. It would normally be a busy street had there not been a layer of half a foot of snow. He scrolled down his phone's contact list until he found his brother's name. It was comforting to know that he was only a phone call away.

Liz was laughing, her eyes wide and interested. Sam couldn't blame her. She was a fan learning what happened to her favorite characters after the story ended. "So, how'd you end up a rogue Angel if Heaven wanted Dean out of Hell?"

"They wanted him to say yes to the head Angel, Michael. Dean is his one true vessel."

"Vessel?"

"Like a demon possession." Sam explained. "Unlike demons, though, Angels just have to have permission."

Castiel nodded.

"Ah," Liz said, trying to digest the information.

"Anyway, Dean is very important to Heaven. But if he says yes and allows Michael to take over his body, then war will rage and the Earth will burn."

Liz opened her mouth, "So it's a bad thing."

"Yep!" Sam chimed in, still watching the building.

Liz grabbed her hair and pulled it into a quick side pony tail. She absently pulled on the tail as she continued to work it out. "And you wanted to help Dean, to… keep saying no?"

Castiel nodded again, clearly pleased that she understood. Sam looked over his shoulder, smirking. It was obvious that Castiel was comfortable with Liz. Sam liked her too. She was very comfortable to talk to, and she seemed to take big information in stride.

"I chose to help Dean in his cause because I believe that he can stop this war."

Sam bit his lip.

"By himself?"

"That is why he has me," Castiel said with absolute certainty. "So he will not be by himself."

"Wait!" Liz sat up straight and stared out the passenger window. "There she is!" Liz pointed, effectively cutting off any more conversation.

Sam stilled as the black Sudan pulled up next to the curb and stopped, a pair of brown boots hitting the street and splashing in the slush. The demon stood, long brown hair tucked under a purple beanie and wearing a red wool coat. She slammed the door and Sam was hit with sudden fear.

"Shit, Liz!" Sam exclaimed, throwing himself further down into the truck's seat. On instinct, Liz and Castiel followed suit.

"What!?"

"It's Meg!" Sam insisted to Castiel in the back seat. He popped back up to double check.

"You're right!" He said, dropping back down. "It is Meg."

"Wait," Liz jumped in, eyes flashing back and forth between the two men. "You know her?"

"Yeah, she's a pretty powerful demon."

Castiel took a deep breath, "She's pretty close to Lucifer. I'd go so far as to say she's his number two."

Liz's eyebrows raised and her eyes widened, "Oh. Awesome. I attacked Lucifer's best man." She then let out a sound close to a whimper.

Castiel's head tilted to the side. "Was that sarcasm?"

She stilled and gave him a steady look, her voice drenched in sarcasm, "No, I actually think that I'm incredible for taking on the bitch."

Despite the situation, Sam found himself wanting to laugh again.

"I'm going to call Dean. Let's go back to your motel."

Liz nodded and started the engine.

Holding his phone to his ear, Sam heard two rings, a third, half of the fourth, and then a beep for voicemail:

"_This is Dean. Leave a message."_

"Dean, call me back. Liz's demon was Meg. This is big, dude. Get your ass here. Call me."

Liz's tires spun in the snow for a moment, and then they were off.

* * *

_"Just trying again. Guess you're still out. Please just tell me you forgot your phone in the car or something."_

"_This is call number three, Dean. Where are you?"_

"_Dean. Answer your damn phone. Call me back."_

"_Dude! It's been three hours since I last called! Where the hell are you?"_

"_This isn't funny, Dean. Samuel is very worried about you."_

"_No, Bobby! He's not answering his phone! I don't know what to do."_

"_Sam, I can't just 'pop to him.' He is hidden from me! Just as you are, but yes I am still looking."_

"_Boy, your brother is worried about you. And you and I are going to have a talk about leaving him alone after he just relapsed once you get your head out of your ass and call us back."_

"_Dean, please call or text or something so I know you're okay?" _

"_Hey, just… trying again."_

"_I'm all turned around Sam. What's the name of the motel again?" "Red Apple Inn." "Like Snow White?" "Snow White, Bobby? What is this, Disney Land?" "Shut up ya' idjit and get me directions."_

"_Any luck Cas?" "No, not since you last called fifteen minutes ago."_

"_Dean. It's me. We really need you to answer. I am beginning to worry."_

"…_Lisa? Hi, it's Sam? Dean's brother? Yeah, hi. Is he there?"_

"_Cas, meet me at Lisa Braeden's house. I guess we start looking there."_

"_Dean, don't worry. I'm going to find you. I'm coming for you. And if you're not lost… I'm going to kill you."_

* * *

The first time that Dean actually wanted children was the day that he was confronted with the idea that Ben was his son. Despite the kid's attitude, his looks, his taste in cars and music, his freckles and his ability to stay calm under supernatural pressure, Dean believed Lisa when she said that he wasn't his son. But he was kidnapped because he was a vessel.

A vessel.

There was too much of a coincidence there.

But whether or not Ben was actually his son, Dean was damn proud of the kid. He had a cheerful attitude about everything, and he kept everyone talking. Alicia, the black woman, had been there for a week – the only one there longer than Ben. The two priests, Liz's missing priests (the only thing that gave Dean hope about the whole situation would be that somehow Sam would make the connection and worry about Liz's case,) have been there for four days. Claire for three.

And he learned that there used to be more people.

Everyone had been through the red doors. The torture room. Apparently, they were trying to possess vessels, but Heaven had put mojo on all connected vessels: demons are not welcome here, thanks! The mojo might keep a demon out, but apparently it was still a painful ordeal.

Not many people make it past their fifth round.

Ben had already been through two rounds. Dean was once again impressed.

He smiled at something that Father Smith said and took a sip from his water bottle. For demons, they were treating the kid okay. Maybe it was because he was a kid. He always seemed to get more frequent bathroom breaks and an extra slice of ham on his plate for lunch.

When dinner came around, and Dean wasn't given anything, Ben pushed over his roll and extra slice.

He always shared, which made Dean like the kid more.

Down in that basement, on the damp floor, an old hole that Dean had thought he had dealt with for good festered. The hole that could be filled with things like 'mowing the lawn' and 'wife' and 'children.' It intensified and echoed whenever Ben looked at him with big brown eyes.

Then he would look at Claire and realize what could happen to children if they lived his life. Broken, lonely, staring blankly at the ground, and comfortable in handcuffs. The contrast between the two kids told Dean one thing; that hole was one hole that would never be filled.

He was thankful that the demons had yet to realize that Claire was a vessel for Castiel. He was scared that they would use her to get to him, and Castiel, being the honorable bastard that he is, would fly in and try to rescue her – if only on principle.

The last thing Dean needed right now was for Castiel to go and do something stupid.

* * *

"So you think whoever took Dean took my Ben, too?" Lisa asked.

They had all congregated in Lisa's living room. Liz and Sam drove the two hours, Castiel had flown in, searching for Dean up until the moment that the two hunters had arrived at Lisa's. Bobby, after driving for half a day, into a snow storm, getting lost, turning around and finally finding Liz's damn motel, had to climb back into his van and keep driving to Lisa's house.

Lisa had been less than happy at the prospect of the rescue crew for her son being missing.

"It is a possibility, but you're the last person to have seen him," Sam moaned. "They could be two completely unrelated things."

Lisa paced. "But it's a possibility, right? That whoever took Dean took my son?"

Castiel blinked. The probability that the two incidents were related was slim, because if Dean was taken, then he would have been taken for the fact that he was Dean Winchester. Ben was just a simple child. But it was still a possibility. "Yes. Although, I do not believe that is so."

Lisa turned to look at him, "I don't know who you are, but my son has been missing for a week. I'm going to hang on to anything I can get."

Castiel nodded, understanding. He had a newfound respect for the woman. "Faith and hope are very powerful things. Hold on to your faith, and God will answer."

Lisa nodded, a little shocked and yet a little reassured.

"Is Bible Study over?" Bobby chimed from his chair, "Because Dean is still missing. What's step one? Where do we start?"

Sam sunk down into the couch and Liz sent him a sympathetic look, "I have no idea."

"The snow from the night before would have covered up any evidence in the ball park from yesterday, if Dean had left any."

"Yeah…"

When Bobby said that he would drive out and help look, Sam was comforted. When Sam had gathered everyone at Lisa's, he had a feeling that everything was going to work out. But, now that everyone was here and they were together, they were no better off than when they were when they were all spread out.

A slow kind of panic spread through Sam. He knew he should have listened to his bad feeling about his brother.

* * *

"So, Ben…" Castiel started, well into his second burger and sitting up straight in the motel room. "He is or isn't your son?"

"That's complicated."

"Uncomplicate it."

Dean smirked and popped open a beer can. "He might be my biological son."

"How can you not know?"

The look that Castiel received from the hunter made him lean away for a moment. "His mother told me that he wasn't. I believe her. There isn't a reason that I know of for her to have lied to me. But look at him! He's the spitting image of me when I was ten!" Bobby and Sam both nodded. Liz smirked between the two boys and crossed her legs at the end of the bed, facing Castiel. "Not to mention the kid is a vessel! That is a lot of coincidence."

"So he is your son."

"Lisa said that he-"

"Can I add something?" Liz jumped in, holding up a single finger. "From a…" her eye twitched at the word, "..fan's point of view?"

Dean thought for a moment, and then nodded, obviously curious.

"Okay, I always thought he was your son."

"…really?"

She nodded eagerly. "Lisa, in the books, was described as a woman with a past. A woman that had moved on from her past and was finally happy with who she was."

"Okay, she had done well for herself. Especially considering she was a single mom."

"Exactly," Liz said, leaning forward. "Her biggest concern was her son. She didn't want him to fall into the kind of life she had gotten out of. Ben knowing who his father was would just make him more interested in classic cars and the drifter lifestyle."

"What's your point?" Bobby asked.

She turned to look at him, "I'm saying that there are a big group of readers that believe that Lisa was lying to Dean to protect Ben. She offered for you to stick around for awhile, and when you said 'This isn't my life,' she was described as sad and disappointed. Like she was hoping you had grown out of the life a little bit. Especially after the speech you gave her just moments before about leaving more behind then just your car."

Sam and Dean shared a small look, and Sam leaned on the nightstand with a smirk. "You sure you're not obsessed?"

She frowned, "Shut up." Sam laughed. Dean was smiling.

"Look," Dean started. "It doesn't matter if he's actually mine or not. It's not even a question anymore. He's with us now." He smiled as he stared through the door to where Ben was. "Kid's been through a lot." His smile fell. "He needs a family."

"But weren't you the one that said that it's dangerous for children to live this life and that you wanted me to hide them so they could have a normal life?"

Dean blinked and then gripped Castiel's shoulder, "You're remembering!"

Castiel's eyes widened at the realization. "Yes," He said. "I was down there with you for awhile, wasn't I?"

The hunter nodded.

"This is good!" Sam said excitedly, "You're getting your memories back. What else do you remember?"

Closing his eyes, Castiel pushed at the fog in his memory. There was fire and Dean's eyes and something about not being stupid.

"It's all still… fog," he huffed. He ran his fingers through his hair. This wall was annoying and stupid and he felt useless and limp. Frustration was not his favorite emotion, he decided. His eyes still closed he felt a hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. A peace fell over him, and as soon as the hand lifted the peace was gone. He sat back at the sudden switch of emotion.

"It's okay, Cas." Dean sat back and then stood. "Well I need a break. I'm gonna check on the kids." Castiel watched him leave. He was different.

But he couldn't decide if the difference was better or worse.


	8. Chapter 7

It was late. Like, past the nighttime television shows late. Most of the vessels in the room had fallen asleep. It was day three in Factory Hell, as Claire had begun calling it. So far, they seemed to ignore Dean. At least they didn't kill him.

"Hey Bitch!" He would egg Meg on. "Where's your dad? I want to talk to him about your attitude."

"Really?" She would answer with a pout. "I was going to ask him if you could take me to prom."

Yesterday another woman was brought in, she was crying and screaming. They took her kicking and fighting through the red doors. They brought her back out in a body bag. She didn't last long against a demon possession, or she pissed one of them off. Most likely Meg. She looked at Dean with a stiff jaw and a sigh of frustration every time she walked through the room, like she was upset that daddy took her toy away.

Dean thought she was still a bitch.

Last night Claire mouthed off, as prisoners tend to do every now and then. She said something along the lines of; 'Bitch, your hair looks like shit,' and Meg had a knife to Claire's throat in an instant. All the other adults in the room immediately began pleading for her life, but Dean was impressed that Claire held her own and stared Meg down.

"I swear those eyes look familiar."

"You've been saying that for a week now, Bitch."

Claire didn't have a slit throat, but she did have a black eye and a busted lip. It looked like little Claire had a little fight in her, after all. Dean was impressed. And apparently, so was Ben.

"Claire!" He exclaimed after all the demons had made their way into the other room. "That was so badass!"

She smirked, "Thanks."

"I agree, Claire." Dean adjusted against his handcuffs. "But you need to be careful. She gets pissed off easy."

"I know," big blue eyes turned and met Dean's for the first time since he was thrown down here. Dean had a sudden longing for Castiel. He shook it off. "That's what makes it fun."

He couldn't argue there.

Ben was taken through the red doors that afternoon. He was in there for over an hour, an hour which Dean spent yelling every insult and cat call he had thought up in the last two days trying to distract them from him. He came back quiet. He didn't say much that evening. He fell asleep fast that night.

But now it was late, and Dean was still awake, worry from Ben's time behind the red door still running top speed in his veins. Damn adrenaline. Sometimes it really sucked.

Then other times, like late at night in a kidnapee-holding cell where demons were suddenly up and moving around like the Queen of England was about to walk through the door, the adrenaline came in handy.

"Hey!" He nudged Father Thomas with his foot, trying to wake the old man. He stirred. Dean nodded toward the red door. The light was on and there was a lot of movement through the small window. "They're doing something. They all keep going in and out."

Thomas turned to his cousin and woke him up. Dean turned to Claire, who was already wide eyed and working on waking Alicia.

Ben rolled up with a yawn and looked around, "What's going on?"

"I don't know, but I'd want to be awake," Dean told him. His gut was right, as the next moment, Lucifer popped in. Damn flutter of wings and everything.

Adrenaline started pumping double time.

Lucifer turned, looked down at Dean, and smiled. "Hello, Dean."

"Hello Asshole," Dean greeted. Thomas and Smith both had confused looks on their faces.

Lucifer sighed and kneeled down at Dean's level. Dean felt his jaw clenching. "You are going to be useful."

"Sam won't say yes."

Lucifer nodded, "Yes he will."

"No he won't. He's stronger than you."

Lucifer frowned, looking genuinely sad, "No he's not. Just like you aren't any stronger than Michael."

"Why don't you just kill me? No vessel for Michael, no need for the ultimate showdown!"

Lucifer stood, still looking sad, "It doesn't work that way, Dean. I need Sam. He is the only one capable of holding me. And he will say yes." He pulled out a cell phone. "This is your phone. I do love these flip phones. I find them entertaining." He flipped it open and as it lit up, he smiled. Like a goddamn kid on Christmas morning.

Dean suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

"But I've been listening to your voicemail, Dean." He started to play with the buttons. "Your brother is worried about you."

"Bitch is gonna get wrinkles. You don't want that, now do you? Let me go and I'll save you both the vanity issues."

Lucifer ignored him. "It's interesting how often you call him. Once per every six calls to Castiel. Now Dean, do I need to sit you down and have a talk about your intentions with my little brother?"

Dean didn't say a word.

Lucifer hit another button, leaned back down to Dean's level and met his eye line before he held the phone up to his ear. Dean could hear it ring, once, twice, and then he could hear Sam.

"Dean!" He could hear Sam's frantic voice coming from the tiny speaker. "Where are you? We've been looking everywhere! I'm so-"

"Hello Sam," Lucifer interrupted.

Sam's voice darkened. "Where is my brother?"

"Oh, he's right here. Do you want to talk to him?" Lucifer held the phone to Dean's ear. They stared at one another for a moment.

"…Sam?" Dean asked.

"Dean?" he sounded so relieved.

"Hey Sam. Do me a favor?"

"Yeah Dean?"

"Don't do anything stupid."

Sam laughed. "Okay, Dean."

"And tell Lisa I found her son."

* * *

When Sam was thirteen, fourteen, he was obsessed with a book series called "Goosebumps." They were scary and sometimes supernatural and easy to read. He could finish one in a couple of days if his dad's hunts didn't last long. Every time they were on a short hunt, he would go to the library while his dad did research and sit and read a book.

Every library usually had every copy.

His favorites though, were the ones where you got to choose your adventure. It made him feel in charge of the story, like he was a hunter in this "Goosebumps" world, and he was on a job. It was silly, but he kinda looked at it like hunter's training. To see if he made the right decision and lived, or the wrong one and died. That was like hunting.

Except it was a book. If he chose wrong, he could just go back a couple pages and try again; know better for next time.

But his life wasn't a book. He wasn't even sure if it was a "choose your own adventure" or not.

"Twenty four hours or he'll start killing vessels?"

"I have to let Heaven know," Castiel trailed. "They should know. If Angels do not have a means of walking the Earth, then this war cannot be fought!"

"You are not going to Heaven when you are enemy number two!"

If Castiel knew how to pout, he would be doing it. He knew Sam had a point. "What do you suggest we do?"

"Storm the factory?" Liz suggested.

"With Lucifer and a dozen of his favorite demons guarding the doors?" Bobby asked, adjusting his hat. "Not my favorite idea."

"Well, what do you suggest?" she yelled right back at him. He widened his eyes at her and she backed down immediately.

"I'll go. By myself. Trick them somehow into letting them go."

"They'll end up tricking you into saying yes."

"I'm not that stupid, Cas."

Castiel stood up, "You're not going."

"Who says you get to decide what I do?" Sam asked, leaning against the back of the couch.

"I am only saying what Dean would say. No. Hell no, would be more his words. It is too dangerous for you to go."

"Why?" Liz asked.

The three of them stared at her. They had forgotten that she didn't know the whole "as it is in Heaven" prophecy.

Castiel started, "As Dean is Michael's vessel Sam is-"

"I'm Lucifer's vessel!" he shouted. "Okay! I'm the meat suit for bad guy number one!" He threw his hands in the air, "Me and Dean are the damn fire and oil, okay?"

"Okay…" Liz said softly. She stood and placed a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'll go."

"What?"

"Yeah. I'm not wanted, not really. I can do some recon; get the lay of the land. If you don't hear from me in a few hours, you know I've been caught."

"No." Sam said. "It's too dangerous."

"Cas here is the most powerful weapon this side of the war has, so he's not going. No offence Bobby, but you're not going. You are too important to the other side to be going. I'm a nobody to these people. I'm dispensable! I'll go."

"Liz!" Sam exclaimed. "No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"She has a point, Sam." It was Bobby that spoke up.

"Bobby, do not encourage her!"

"She's a good hunter, Sam. Trust her instincts on this. She's right."

Castiel nodded his agreement. "I agree with Bobby."

Sam shook his head, the room getting smaller around him. "I'm not going to let another person die because of me."

"Too bad," Liz said. "I'm leaving at dawn. Now, I'm going to get a few hours sleep and maybe take a shower. You guys do whatever you want." She turned toward Sam, finger in his face, "Except going to that factory on your own." She stood turned and started walking up the stairs to the guest bedroom she had commandeered.

"Sam," Bobby started as she disappeared at the top of the stairs.

"Yeah?"

"Told you she was awesome."

* * *

"I don't know what prompted you to go after that," Sam said to Castiel, back in the motel room. Claire and Ben had made their way back into the first room. They had folded out the fold-out couch and made a pallet of pillows and blankets and had settled into listening, adding in a few things every now and then.

"I obviously wanted to save everyone the trouble."

"I don't know why you went, but I understand."

Ben stirred from under his mountains of blankets, "Thing was, you weren't the first one with the idea to go on your own. My mother had overheard the whole thing. She took it upon herself to try to save me." He got really quiet and then his face tore.

All eyes were on Ben. The boy climbed out of his cocoon, Claire reaching out after him, and made his way over to Dean. Dean opened his arms and Ben dived in, climbing on and trying not to sob into his neck. Over Ben's head, Dean gave Castiel a look that Castiel read as 'He needs me. That's why he's mine.'

Castiel felt a deep longing, similar to the one he felt when he thought of home or Ellen or Jo. He was feeling sympathy – something that was extremely unusual – for Ben. He had known this child for less than a day and yet he was feeling sorry for him. His emotions were moving quickly.

"We can skip over that part, if you want Ben." Castiel offered. Dean looked grateful.

He sniffed and pulled back from Dean's shoulder, "No, it's okay. Can I tell it?"

"You sure, Ben?" Dean asked. "You don't have to."

"I want to."

* * *

It had been a few hours since Lucifer hung the phone up on Sam. Dean had explained that the new man was not just another demon, but the Devil himself. Father Thomas and Father Smith both had miniature panic attacks and started praying the rosary.

It was about the third time through the beads when Lisa was thrown in the room by a couple demon grunts.

"Mom!" Ben yelled, excited.

"Ben!" She yelled back, jumping to run towards him. One of the demons grabbed her and pulled her back. She let out a small cry.

Meg stormed into the room, "Who's this?"

"She was skulking around outside. She said she knew we were here."

Lisa struggled against the larger man. "I'm here for my son."

"Lisa, no!" Dean argued.

"Shut up, Dean. He's my son!"

Meg looked from Dean to Lisa, and then to Ben. "Is he Dean's son?"

"No!" Dean said immediately.

Meg smiled a crooked smile, "You said that a bit too fast there, Dean-o."

Lisa shook her head, "Why should it matter?"

"Your son is a vessel for the Host of Heaven." Lucifer spoke, red door swinging closed behind him. He walked smoothly toward Lisa. "Every Angel has a couple of bloodlines that are unique to them. If your son is Dean's son, then Michael has two possible vessels walking the Earth."

Dean's heart rate sped up. He had thought about that during his musings about the kid. "He's not mine, you son of a bitch."

Lucifer walked over to Ben, who scooted away as much as he could. "I don't know, Dean. He looks a lot like you. Same nose if I'm not mistaken."

"Get the hell away from him!" Lisa shouted.

"You wish to barter for his life?" Lucifer asked.

Lisa blinked for a moment, "I have a little bit of money saved up…"

Meg burst into laughter, "Oh Sweetheart, that just made my day! Money in the bank isn't what he's talking about!"

"Lisa!" Dean started. "Don't do it. There are other ways!"

Dean's outburst was rewarded with a backhand across the face from Meg. "Shut up you Chatty Cathy!"

Lucifer sauntered across the room, and ran a single finger down Lisa's chin. She shivered and shut her eyes.

"No!" Ben and Dean exclaimed at the same time. "Get away from her!"

"You know," Lucifer smiled with his back to the protesters. "I could use a little life force." He ran a hand along the peeling skin on his face, "This poor vessel could use the boost."

Lisa blinked and quickly glanced at Dean, eyes flashing with fear.

"How about this, instead." He turned and considered Ben for a moment. "I'll free your son, untie him and not force him to stay here, and in exchange, I get your life."

Lisa's mouth fell open and she took a sudden step back.

"Don't do it, Lisa," Dean pleaded.

She ignored him, "You swear to let my child go? And that you will not harm him?"

Lucifer leaned forward, as if he was going to tell her a secret. "I swear to God."

Dean could have punched him.

"Then let him go, and you can have me."

"Mom!" Ben howled. "No!"

"Lisa!" Dean cried. He was hit again. "Stop doing that, you bitch!"

Meg leaned down, gag in hand and got to work at shutting Dean up.

Lucifer stared at her for a moment, placing his hands on her shoulders. She took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry for all the pain this has put you through. You will be at rest soon."

"Free my son first."

Dean swore he saw Lucifer's jaw twitch. "So be it." He motioned to one of his goons to untie Ben.

"Please let me say goodbye," Lisa pleaded. "You already have my life."

His jaw twitched again.

"Mom!" Ben whined; tears already running down his cheeks, as his bounds were loosened. "Mom, don't do this!" He ran to her arms. "Please don't do this. I don't want you to do this."

"Sweetie," she whispered. "You are my everything."

"What am I supposed to do?"

She wiped his cheeks of tears, and more just replaced them. "You live, Baby. And know that I love you, and will always love you."

"I don't want you to die!"

"Honey, it's okay." She nodded, trying her best to soothe him. "It's okay. This is okay."

"No it's not!" he argued.

She pulled him into a fierce hug, face tearing where he could not see it. Ben clung to her, losing this battle and realizing this might be the last time he hugged his mother. "What's worse would be something happening to you, and me not doing anything about it. Especially when I could."

"But Sam could still-"

Lisa shook her head, "This way I know that you are safe. I am certain that you will be safe."

"Momma, no," he moaned into her shoulder. She ran a soothing hand up and down his back and rocked him for a moment.

"Baby, it's time to be strong." She squeezed him tighter. "I will always be with you. Don't forget that. Ever."

He nodded and she started to push him away. Tears started running down her face as she stood and he clung. Ben let go reluctantly and stood like he was collapsing in on himself.

"Don't watch, Ben," Lisa said sadly as Lucifer took her shoulders again. "Look away."

"Ben!" Claire called. "Look away!" She knew what it was like watching your mother die. It was not something she wished on anyone.

Dean joined in, a muffled "Bhen!" to get him to look away.

Ben turned, eyes staring straight into Dean's. He shuddered when he heard his mother's body hit the floor. But Dean did not look away. He rushed into Dean, crushing himself against him. Dean tried to comfort him as best he could without his arms.

Looking up at Lucifer with deadly eyes, Dean watched as parts of him healed. And then he frowned to see his skin was still peeling, that he still had most of his wounds. "She was not enough…" he mused. "Too bad."

"Yoh shnon ohf ah betch!" Dean said against the gag.

Lucifer's jaw twitched a third time as he stared down at Ben, crying against Dean, and then he walked away.

* * *

Ben was hiccupping as he finished his telling. Dean was rocking him. No one said a word as Ben cried himself to sleep.


End file.
